The Alphabetical Lessons of Harry Potter
by GiddyGirl4Books
Summary: Everyone knows that Harry Potter's life was difficult. He was treated poorly and lived a life without people who cared about him. But maybe it wasn't ALL so bad... no, it was bad. But anyway, here are 26 lessons Harry Potter learned while living with the Dursleys'. One for each letter. Chapter 2: B is for Baggage.
1. A is for Afterthought

**A/N: Hello! Thanks for stumbling about my story! Please stick around!**

 **This story is basically 26 lessons Harry Potter learned from the Dursleys. One chapter for each letter. If you have any ideas for words to represent these letters, please tell me! And if you have time to beta someone, but you don't know who, you can beta me! (I also kinda need it!)**

A is for afterthought

The day Harry Potter was dropped off at number four, Privet Drive, was a day that was going to stay with him forever. The green lights, the horrific screams, the crying, the gasps. There was smoke in the air, and everyone in Godric's Hollow only just coming outside to see what happened. People crying, people shouting, people looking ashamed at the small spark of hope that has ignited in them. That You-Know-Who was dead.

You see, most people don't know this (besides the lone witches and wizards that studied small children), but most babies remembered more than they thought they did. Off course, they, like full grown adults, didn't remember everything. Harry Potter did not remember the smell of his mother's perfume, nor the colour of his old broom. He did not remember the color of the mantle piece in the kitchen, nor the grey owl that arrived with post every morning.

But the horrific scene of the darkest lord in modern history bursting the door open and killing his parents was a day that Harry Potter was going to remember forever, stowed in the deepest darkest part of his young mind, waiting to be unleashed when he's the most vulnerable; in his sleep.

So there he slept, on the doorstep of number four, through the windy November night, trying to keep the demons away. Trying to fight them off. There he slept until the sun came up, and there he lay until the booming voice of another child woke Harry up.

It was a horrible sound to wake up to. Low and deep, yet high and shrill. Harry Potter was thankful; his nightmares seemed to become worse and worse. And so yes, Harry was thankful now. What he did not know was that he encountered his cousin Dudley for the first time.

Out of the first few moments of Harry Potter's new life, he made many new forever-memories. His new family looming on top of him, all with purple faces and smoke coming out of their ears. He was dropped into a tiny room filled with cleaning supplies in it- his new bedroom for the next decade or so. Yells and arguments that made his skin boil. Oh, he he just wanted some sleep. And more so, he wanted the safe feeling of a hug from his parents.

That first night wasn't the greatest. Harry Potter, (as Uncle Vernon continuously pointed out for the next month) would not " _SHUT UP!"._ The broom cupboard was hot and sticky- how young Harry desired fresh air.

And that's where Harry Potter slept for the next ten years. Where he learned to read; where he learned to control pain; where he talked to himself, and drew pictures on bits of old newspapers. And through all these challenges, one of the worst, one of the very worst, was being an afterthought.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harry Potter woke up yet again with pounding on the door and the smell of breakfast wafting through the small cracks in his cupboard. For the millionth time, he wished his life would change; that someone would break down the door and take him away. To be loved and cherished as much as his Aunt and Uncle cherished Dudley. For someone to whisk him away from his nightmare, and return to that safe, warm place with two indistinguishable people he thought were his parents.

He put on his socks as a stone dropped in his stomach. Okay, that was normal. He was used to the sinking feeling of dread that climbed out of his throat every time he was forced to face the Dursleys. But today was worse. Much, much worse. Today a stone did not sink into the pit of his stomach, it was a dinosaur egg. His fingers were not twitching as he struggled to think of an excuse to stay inside, they shook. He did not feel hot with fright of the day in front of him, he sweated.

He put that out of his mind. _Nothing to worry about. You're just nervous that it's the last day of term._ He told himself. So he hurriedly put on his sweater- something he only learned how to do a few weeks ago; he was still very proud- and opened the door. Immediately, the smell of eggs and bacon hit him full force. Instantaneously, his mouth watered. He was hungry, and he didn't get dinner the night before.

But Harry knew what to do. He would not sit down at the table and watch the telly. He would not get served his breakfast with a "Good morning, Harry! How did you sleep?". He was not going to get asked about his dreams, and about his nightmares, and how did you feel?

Harry Potter learned from a very early age that he was not going to be treated like everyone else. Harry Potter realised very quickly that it was do or die on this household, or at least, for him. It was clean the table, or get locked up. It was wead the garden, or get starved. It was dust Dudley's bedroom for the fifth time that week of suffer the consequences.

So Harry cooked. Harry cleaned. Harry mopped, and wead and cleaned the car. And Harry didn't abject. It was do or die.

So when Aunt Petunia ordered him to finish breakfast, he finished breakfast. And he did it without complaint. And he was rewarded with the scraps. It was better than yesterday, at least. Yesterday he only got half of the scraps, thought there were close to none anyway. So Harry ate his breakfast, forgetting the dinosaur egg the was already in his stomach.

It was Friday, his least favourite day. For one, he was facing a whole two days with nothing but chores and Dudley, and for another, it was gym, first period. Most of his fellow classmates loved gym; it was like recess, they said. But in gym you can't run away from things that scare you. In gym, you can't keep to yourself and try to stay out of peoples' line of sight. In gym, you're forced to partner up with people who don't want anything to do with you, or, more precisely, they want nothing to do with Dudley.

A student was missing, however, so Harry Potter got to partner up with the teacher, which wasn't half so bad. They practiced passing basket balls, which Harry found to be fascinating. He liked catching much better than passing, though. And as he concentrated at catching the ball (which was gold, for some reason, though Harry liked it better that way), the weight in his stomach almost disappeared.

It was after recess when he had maths, which happened to be a rather pleasant experience. He got partnered up with a girl named Kate, a girl that seemed to excel all of her classes. She was especially great at maths.

They got a worksheet to complete together, which wasn't only embarrassing by the fact that Harry didn't know how to do at least a third, but meant the class had to read aloud their answers, which, again, proved difficult.

Everyone told the class the answer for their assigned questions, when suddenly, Mrs. Brown called on Harry Potter.

"Alright, Harry, readout question sixteen, please."

The next time his nerves returned was just after lunch. His second grade teacher was placing brown envelopes in front of the students, with names and the date on top. Harry knew what this meant. It happened every time before a long break (Harry hates those) and they show his family how stupid he is.

(He was never actually allowed to look at them, his uncle and aunt kept them on top of the refrigerator, but he believed them.)

It was then, when his teacher told them that they were not to read their grades before their parents, that Harry's Dinosaur egg returned.

He walked home from school, though he could probably ride home with Dudley. He wanted a minute to deal with the hours ahead of him, which wasn't the best thing to think of.

So Harry went home a different pathway, one he hoped no one knew about. It took him through a bunch of dense vegetation and thick mud until you could hardly see the lines of perfectly lined houses of his neighbourhood.

It was then when he did something he didn't think he's ever done before- he disobeyed an order. He deterred his walk to a small path that most people in Little Surrey didn't talk about, not that many people knew about it, anyway.

If you were to look down upon the continent of Europe, in a place called little Surrey, on a small rock on an edge on a tiny cliff, you would find Harry Potter. An ecstatic Harry Potter.

Harry Potter skimmed his report card almost hungrily- he was holding solid proof against everything his Aunt and Uncle told him, yet everything that he told himself.

He eyes eagerly read the paper; his brain moving faster than his eyes, desperate for more.

What Harry Potter didn't realise, was that this piece of paper in his hand was going to clear a lot of things up for him, things that he didn't even know were possible.

His eyes skimmed the following words:

 _Student: Harry Potter_

 _Grade: 2_

 _Teacher: Elizabeth D. Brown_

 _The following reports are based of of your child's' skill level. These grades are decided on by your child's teacher._

 _Maths: B+_

 _Literacy: B+_

 _Science/Social Studies: C+_

 _Health/Gym: C_

 _Art/Music: A-_

This proved it, didn't it? Wasn't the moment where Harry Potter understood that he was more than capable of succeeding? Wasn't this the moment that he understood that he was an afterthought?

But no, the moment when Harry Potter came to these realisations was later that day, in an unfortunately less comfortable place.

It was when Harry Potter was sitting outside the halls of his cousin's bedroom when Harry Potter finally understood. His Aunt was reading his cousin a book, (Green Eggs and Ham). Everyone knew that that book was for kids younger than Dudley. Or, at least, Harry did, though he didn't say anything, he valued his life!

It was when his cousin asked his mother what he was going to get for his birthday, when they planned the whole day, then and there, was when Harry Potter realised that he was, indeed, an afterthought.

Or, more specifically, when Harry Potter himself was mentioned briefly in their conversations, when Harry's heart soared at the foolish thought that maybe he was going to go to the water park with them…

But no, the by passing comment was made on when they should drop off Harry Potter at Mrs. Figgs's house, and, (this got both Dudley and his mother laughing) if they should pick him up when the day was finished at all!

So yes, that was the day when Harry Potter learned that he was an afterthought. Though really, he realised, a relative of his parents were going to come to whisk him away anyhow, weren't they?

Life could be worse, he realised.

And Harry Potter was going to see how worse it was going to be…

 **A/N: Review...**


	2. B is for Baggage

**A/N: Hello, and welcome back for this week's letter! Hope you enjoy!**

B is for baggage

When Harry Potter was five years old, something happened to him. It was horrible, painful, made him want to cry. Something must be wrong with him. It was going to keep happening, and then he'd end up dead. Oh, there was just so much blood! And it HURT!

On the nineteenth day of April, Harry Potter experienced his body falling apart.

Harry and the Dursleys were sitting in the back of a large cab, driving to the airport. They were taking a vacation in Vancouver, it was apparently very nice there in the spring. Blue skies, and flowers everywhere! Aunt Petunia was excited about their maple tasting tour, the finest in the country, it said. Uncle Vernon and Dudley, however, were especially excited for the poutine, a traditional Canadian food.

Harry Potter, however, was eager to simply go. It was the first time he left the country, (he was pretty sure; his parents might have taken him) and it was certainly the first time the Dursleys took him anywhere. It was his first time getting on an airplane, and though he was nervous, he couldn't wait.

The drive from number 4 to the airport was almost forty minutes, a very long time for a five-year-old boy. Dudley, of course, had a video game in his hands, which was really quite loud, though the driver was oblivious to it. Harry had seen the way people look at him in the family not being treated equally, but they ignored it. Perhaps he was in trouble, and that's why he didn't get an ice cream at the store. Maybe he had a tantrum, and that's why he didn't play any games. Or maybe he didn't eat his greens, and that's why his eyes were red.

(Though Harry doubted the last one. Even a blind man could see that there was not an ounce of vegetables in Dudley.)

And like the majority of other children his age, Harry quickly got bored of the moving trees and houses and cars. So he resulted in the only other thing he could possibly do without getting into trouble: wiggling his tooth.

So when his mouth erupted with a thick, metallic taste, Harry did what was only natural to him: he cried out in pain.

Even weeks later Uncle Vernon reminded Harry how close he had been to kicking Harry out of the moving vehicle. Which has happened before. Not the threatening, the kicking. The screaming. The yelling. It was all very normal.

One thing that Harry Potter did not understand was the machine that kept buzzing in his presence. Uncle Vernon pushed him through the portal looking frame before stripping his feet, so not only were his feet were numb with the cold, but the ringing in his ears, which only just subsided from Uncle Vernon's yelling, was back.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The sound was accompanied by flashing red lights, and a man with a thick vest and badges to approach him. After the guard took him aside to check all of his clothes and even his hair, they were told to carry on with their plans, because apparently, "This is a very common misconception with machines; that they don't have anything wrong with them. We're very sorry about your delay. Have a nice trip!"

(Something Harry Potter never really understood. Why would people wish you a good day when they just did something to turn it in the opposite directions. The least they could do for Harry Potter was try to calm Uncle Vernon down. You could practically hear his outrage and indignation.)

It was surprisingly cold through the tunnel which led into the plane. That, however, hardly compared to the temperature inside the plane. The last time Harry Potter felt this cold was when he had to clean his Uncle's car four weeks ago, without a coat. (The soap water almost froze on his hands, and the car, which got Harry in very deep trouble.)

So there Harry Potter was, stuck between a tall teenager and a businessman, with a reclined seat in front of him. Harry Potter didn't bother asking his Aunt and Uncle why he couldn't sit closer to them; he already knew that answer.

After the plane finally took off and the light above his head turned off to indicate that passengers could take their seat belts off, Harry Potter got up and went to find his Aunt and Uncle. They were feeding Dudley some peanuts and biscuits while he was watching a movie.

Like a sixth sense, both Petunia and Vernon Dursley perked up when he came about a meter close to them. You could see their question clearly on their faces asking, "What do you want now?"

Harry Potter did not know how to respond. What could he say? He was hungry. He hadn't had anything to eat for almost eight hours now. His stomach was making so many noises that the teenager next to him started looking at him strangely.

His hopeless expression and complement to Aunt Petunia's shirt rewarded him a cup of orange juice. It was the most wonderful thing Harry Potter could think of.

In fact, Harry Potter felt like he died and went to heaven, and it must have shown on his face, too, because suddenly the tall person sitting next to him eyed him strangely, before saying, "Merlin, you look like you've never tasted orange juice before."

Harry clutched his styrofoam cup to his chest, looking at the boy next to him like he was about to steal it away from him. Feeling slightly possessive, he replied, "I'm sorry."

"No, no. Not a problem. I was just saying, really. Anyway, we're going to be here for the next nine and a half hours or so, so why don't we be friends?"

Harry Potter looked at him for a moment before sticking his hand out just like those random people wearing clothes that looked like bathrobes did to him. The teen, with eyebrows, slightly raised, shook his hand, and offered him a pack of crisps.

Harry immediately said no. The last time he did anything more than say hello to a stranger at one time he had to stay in the broom cupboard for almost six hours. He was already pushing the limit by shaking his neighbour's hand.

The boy simply took the bag back but did not eat any. "Alright, let me tell you a bit about myself. My name's Ashton. I love the colour green. I'm going to Vancouver to visit my parents. I like to swim. My favourite day of the week is Thursday. I hate Sundays…"

So Harry Potter listened to the boy (or Ashton, he supposed) talk about his life and his friends. It was… refreshing. It was refreshing to be looked at and talked to without any negativity. The only few people Harry Potter's met like that so far were his teacher and the person who shook his hands at the mall a few weeks ago.

Ashton looked at him expectantly but said nothing. Maybe he was looking for questions about his mini rant, or expecting one from Harry Potter himself. Seeing the eager look in his eyes, Harry said, in a timid voice, "Where's your school? Why don't you live near you parents?"

Ashton looked around him, looking like he expected an attack, or someone listening in. When he deemed the environment fit, he replied, "Can you keep a secret?" After Harry Potter's small nod and keen eyes (still fixed onto the floor), he leaned in and started whispering.

"I go to a huge school in England. They teach us magic, there. When you turn eleven, they send you a note saying you're accepted. But only a few people get in. That's what makes it so special. But you know what? I think that you're going to be accepted."

Harry Potter looked at him curiously, seemingly not believing what his new friend told him. There was, however, one thing that overpowered his disbelief: his curiosity. So Harry Potter started asking questions, and Ashton answered.

"Do you live in the school?" Yes.

"Is it hard?" Yeah… but it's also lot's of fun.

"Why do you think I can get in?" This took a moment to answer. He was one supposed to tell someone else something like this? Never in Ashton's wildest dreams would he have thought that he was going to meet Harry Potter. And never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that Harry Potter was treated this way. He already sent a letter to Dumbledore. Now all he had to do is gather as much information as possible.

Using the least amount of information as possible, he told Harry Potter that only very smart, brave, kind or cunning people get into Hogwarts, and that Harry was all of those things. Ashton knew that Harry Potter's living situation wasn't ideal. He knew that he was dragged around like dead weight or baggage.

"Harry, you know that the Dursleys' don't treat you properly, right?"

Harry Potter nodded slowly.

"You shouldn't be treated like filth or dead weight. You shouldn't be lugged around like baggage."

But Harry Potter was asleep.

When they landed and Harry Potter was forced to go back to the Dursleys, Ashton gave him a small bag. Inside the bag was a small horse made of glass. That day was when Harry Potter got a toy.

"Oh and Harry?" Ashton said. "You're a wizard, Harry. I'll see you at Hogwarts."

Harry Potter smiled.

And took the bag of crisps.

 **A/N: Ah, Harry's learning! Please read and review! It would mean a lot, and it makes me write faster!**


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